I knew what she was going to say before she said it.
"There was an accident. It's a dangerous sport on that level, and they were filming on some major rivers. Big rapids. We were texting here and there. He sent me pics from the trip and we made plans for when he got back. The night before he died he was so excited about the section they had planned for the next day, even though the water was higher than usual. I waited for him to check in, and kept waiting, and finally one of his buddies who knew me called. As soon as his buddy's name showed on my phone, I knew.
"I understood the trip was risky. That was the point–no reason to film an easy paddle–but I never thought he wouldn't come home. After, I couldn't stop thinking about all the time I'd wasted, too afraid to go for it. I missed out on what we could have had."
"You couldn't have stopped him from dying," Sterling said, wrapping an arm around Quinn and tugging her close.
"I know. He still would have gone on the trip. That was his life. It was always going to be dangerous. But I missed out on the short time we could have had together. And for what? To spare my pride if he turned me down? To save myself from some future hurt?"
"It would have been worse if you'd had something with him, wouldn't it?" Savannah asked.
"I guess that depends on how you see it," Quinn said with a ghost of a smile. "Losing him hurt. It would have hurt more if we'd had a deeper relationship. But the regret was a pain of its own. I was heartbroken that he'd died, but it was worse that I hated myself for cheating us, for being a coward. If I'd had the guts to go after what I wanted, I still would have ended up with grief and a broken heart, but at least I wouldn't have blamed myself."
Sterling squeezed Quinn tight. Quinn leaned into her for a moment before lifting her eyes to mine. "If you have feelings for Nash, then you owe it to yourself to find out what you could have with him. Haven't you wasted enough time already?"
Quinn's words played in my head over and over in the days to come.
Haven't you wasted enough time already?
Every time I thought about it, the only answer I had was a resounding yes. Yes, I'd wasted far too much time when it came to Nash Kingsley.
The real question was, what did I plan to do about it?
ChapterNineteen
PARKER
Iwasn't stalking Nash. Not really.
It only felt like it.
Maybe because I was lingering in the library down the hall from Griffen's office, where Nash was in a meeting with Griffen, Hope, and Royal. The first of many, I assumed.
I'd missed his arrival that morning. I'd been tied up with Billy Bob and their Hawk-approved plumber, going over the issues at the cottage. Not that I should have been there to meet Nash. I wasn't his hostess. He hadn't even texted to let me know when he'd be at Heartstone Manor. And why should he?
I'd let all that wine cloud my head. Nash and I were family, kind of, who'd had a light flirtation that was seriously inappropriate, and one night we'd let it go too far. That was it. Any thoughts that Nash was here for me were just the product of too much wine and the hopeful wishes of my sisters and friends. That's all.
So why was I lingering in the library, listening for any hint of a sound from the office? Was I planning to ambush Nash in the hallway? Follow him to the guest room? Of course not.
And I wasn't lingering. I was looking for a book of photographs of the estate that I recalled having some interior pictures of the cottage and gate house. Griffen wanted them restored to their original condition, or as close as we could get, and the photos would be helpful. That was all it was.
Once I found the book, I'd take it back to my room and go through it there. Or at the cottage. Yes, at the cottage. I needed to get out of the house so I could stop listening for Nash everywhere.
I almost threw my hands over my head and stormed out of the room. Was I crazy? I must have been crazy to think I could share this house with Nash as if nothing had happened between us. I'd seriously overestimated my emotional control.
Scanning the books in the library with unseeing eyes, my ears straining for a peep of sound from Griffen's office, I had to admit I was fresh out of any kind of control, especially emotional.
I checked my phone. 1:47PM. Sterling was still at work, running the shop and office at Quinn's guide service. This time of day, Quinn would be out with a group and the shop/office would be empty, except for the occasional tourist who wandered in off the street to book a future hike or rafting trip with Quinn. In my current mood, I completely understood why Sterling liked working for Quinn. Quiet isolation sounded great to me.
I could give up on finding the book, and go see Sterling. That would get me out of Heartstone, and maybe out of my head. My phone beeped with a text and I tapped it open, expecting to see Sterling's name. Instead, I puzzled at a number I didn't recognize. Tapping it, the message popped open on the screen.
Why are you doing this to me? I never agreed to any of this. Call off your bitch and come home so we can talk. We need to work this out. I know you love me.
Hands trembling, I took a screenshot, texted it to Angie, and blocked the number. Tyler was swinging from ugly abuse–fun stuff likeI'm going to fuck up that pretty face until you beg me to take you back–to love bombing me with endless flattery–you're my perfect dream, the only woman I'll ever love and I can't live without you–to things like this most recent message. Passive aggressive pushing of blame on me while casting himself as the victim and insulting Angie. Jerk.
A shiver went down my spine and I shoved my phone in my pocket, suddenly less interested in the idea of leaving the estate to go see Sterling. Heartstone Manor was safe. There was no one here who wanted tofuck up my pretty face, for one thing. Wiping my damp palms on my bright linen capris, I moved to the next section of books and went back to looking for the photographs of the cottage.
I wasn't going to think about Tyler. I was not going to think about Nash. I was going to focus on my job, and my new life, and anything that was not the Kingsley men.
